


i have overcome my hardships (but i can hardly breathe)

by robin_hoods



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Crossdressing, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mentioned Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Drowned God be good,” Qarl said, “that's your brother in a dress right there!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have overcome my hardships (but i can hardly breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Balon never rebels, some characters that are dead in canon are alive in this alternate universe.
> 
> Massive thank you to [leapylion3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3) for being an awesome cheerleader
> 
> Based on this prompt:
> 
> Balon criticizes Theon's masculinity and greenlander tendencies. Theon delivers an epic "Well, fuck you too" by reaving like a crazy person and kicking copious amounts of ass. While wearing a dress and jewelry he got for gold.

“When Rodrik was your age, he already commanded his own fleet,” Lord Balon said to Theon, his youngest son.

“I cannot command a fleet, if you give me no ships,” Theon said in turn. From his Seastone Chair, Balon regarded him with a cool look, one Theon was used to seeing on his Lord Father's face whenever Theon found himself in his presence. It was a look rife with contempt and disappointment, as Theon had not been the son he had expected him to be, unlike his brothers or sister, who could do no wrong.

In his chair, Balon huffed and leaned forward. “Your ships you will have, if you have proven yourself to be a true ironborn, when you have paid the iron price and become a loyal servant of the Drowned God.”

“I've paid the iron price, Father,” Theon said, “I've paid it a hundred times over, and more.”

“Have you?” Balon said, and Theon imagined he could hear his Father's joints creaking from where he stood, a whisper in a turmoiled sea. One day, he might heave a cry for help, and Theon would not hear him, not with all of that water surrounding them. The Drowned God would gladly take Balon Greyjoy down into his halls, Theon thought, he would take him into his many outstretching arms and place him at the head of his table, where he would feast for all of eternity. Not so for Theon Greyjoy.

“Have you?” Lord Balon said again, his eyes narrowed and his lips stretched thin. “That is not the story your sister shared with me. Mercy for the greenlanders? Pah! Paid the iron price, you say? You have forgotten our ways, boy, soft like a greenlander you've become, like some woman. No son of mine can call himself ironborn if he feels himself too good for our ways.”

“That's not what happened,” Theon said, but even before he finished speaking he knew his Father could not be persuaded. He had never been the favoured son of his Lord Father, that fate was reserved for his elder brothers, and even his sister. She was more of a son to Balon Greyjoy than Theon had ever been, stronger, better, _harder_. Not as weak-willed as her baby brother. When Balon said he had three sons and one daughter, Theon knew what he meant. Not Asha, never Asha.

She had taken him reaving once, when he had been a mere boy of two-and-ten, barely on the cusp of manhood. Even then, he had not been able to compete with his siblings. That day his sister's prizes had glimmered in the fading sunlight, jewelry and helmets, linked chains and longswords. They took what they had won, it was only fair. The dead had no use for these trivialities, after all.

Theon had stumbled and fallen, cowered behind a large rock while men and women alike twisted and tore each other apart on the beach. Asha had never taken him along again, after she had found him covered in spatters of blood with scraped hands and knees. Words are big, but deeds are bigger, she had said, and oh, Theon had spoken much beforehand. After, it had been quiet.

It was quiet now as well, and Theon felt the silence pressing down upon his shoulders, like an unspoken verdict his father wasn't willing to voice. “That's not what happened,” he said again, his voice echoing, _not what happened, what happened, 't_ happened.

“Are you calling your sister a liar, Theon?” Lord Balon said. No, Theon thought, but that's what you're calling me. When he did not answer, Balon continued, “Unless you prove yourself to be worthy of this fleet you want, I will hear no more of it. Ironborn do not act the way you have. What is dead may never die, Theon.”

“But rises, harder and stronger,” Theon replied, and turned, just after he saw his Father's mouth stretch into another grim line. It would be a good day for Balon Greyjoy when his son started following the ironborn's words.

Theon made his way to his sleeping quarters across the stone bridge, attempting to wrap his cloak tighter around himself to protect him from the rain. By the time he reached his chambers, his cloak and tunic were drenched, but there was no fire in the hearth to warm his hands or heart to. If the weather had permitted it he would have gone down to the harbour, but the stones of Pyke were treacherous in this rain and he didn't want to risk slipping and falling. That would've appeased his lord father, despite the fact he'd never been heir to the iron islands and never would be.

He slipped out of his wet clothes and lit a candle. By now any wood left in the hearth would be far too damp to use, so there was no point in trying to light it. Under the sheets of his bed he shivered, the cold seeping into his bones, cold wet kisses pressed against his cheeks; the wind that crept through the blankets the loving hand of a mother long dead.

She would never have stood for this, and neither should he, but the long, dark shadows of his brothers loomed over him, their fingers twitching, their mouths grinning. _We'll take care of you, Theon,_ they'd said, and he'd believed them, because they were his brothers. Brothers you should trust. Brothers would not betray you. Ironborn took care of their own, they said, but Theon had stopped believing that many namedays ago.

Regardless of what Balon said, his mother would've been proud. My sweet summer child, she'd called him. The only son she'd been allowed to love, coddle, and hold. The only son Balon Greyjoy now resented. Theon twisted and turned in his bed a while longer, but he must have fallen asleep; when he opened his eyes, sunlight was peeking through the shutters. A brighter afterthought of the storm that had come the night before.

* 

Word was the _Sea Bitch_ had been sighted near Seaguard, but of words there were many, more false than true. If Asha believed these rumours to be true, she should take to heart those about her brother in a dress as well, and regardless of how Theon often made a fool of himself, he would not sink to that level. Instead, Asha chose to ignore the lies and concentrated on the truths. If Theon had been near Seaguard, _in a dress_ , she would know soon enough.

“I want you to find out what Theon has been up to,” her Father had told her two days past.

“Greenlanders tell stories, Father,” she'd said. “The only true thing about them has to be the reaving. Theon might have realised, finally, what it means to be an ironborn.” Balon had just pursed his lips and shaken his head.

Now, she was on her way to Seaguard on her own ship, and if she was angrier than usual, her men did not mention it. None of them barring Qarl the Maid, who never knew when to keep his mouth shut in her presence. “This brother of yours, was he the one who challenged your uncle Euron to a game of finger dancing, and lost two of his fingers?”

“Not the same brother.” Asha sighed. “That was Maron, believing he could take on the world all by himself.”

“And the one who threw himself off a cliff and miraculously survived?”

“Rodrik. And he slipped and fell, but doesn't want anyone to know. All of my brothers are idiots.” Qarl laughed, long and throatily.

“So the one we're after now is your younger brother.”

The corners of her lips shifted up. “Yes. That would be the one to ask if you were still a _maiden_.” Qarl the Maid scowled, this time. “Come,” she said, leading him below the deck. “Perhaps you can show me whether you still blush like a maiden would during her first bedding.” Qarl followed, grinning broadly, his hands already reaching towards her hips.

When frantic knocking came to her door later, they both looked up. “Capt'n,” she heard one of her crew say, “I think you'll want to see this...”

The both of them made their way up on deck, and Asha could see the _Sea Bitch_ lying on their port side, closer to the shore than the _Black Wind_. It looked to be lying low in the water, so they must have something heavy aboard. There was a figure standing on the bridge, a woman wearing a long dress, and jewelry that flashed in the sunlight. It wouldn't be the first time Theon had taken a woman on board, one of those fancy noble girls who cried when their toes got slightly wet. In Asha's experience, however, those women usually preffered to stay belowdecks, where they would not be confronted with the sights and smells of the sea.

“Is that...?” The realisation came to her quickly when she became aware something was off. After all, a sweet noble girl would not be wielding a sword, or cut off her hair above her ears, or scream speeches at Theon's crew.

“Drowned God be good,” Qarl said, “that's your brother in a dress right there!”

A couple of men behind them whistled. “I'd bed her!” one of them lewdly shared.

Asha rolled her eyes, and ordered for the _Black Wind_ to be taken as close as possible to her brother's ship. By now, they were near enough to recognise some of the crew. Wex Pyke standing next to Theon, Tris on the bow, one of the Codd boys casually standing at the wheel (to steer where, she did not know). And by this time, Theon's crew had defnitely noticed the Kraken flag as well.

“Was being up a woman's skirts not enough for you, Greyjoy?” Qarl shouted, and Asha saw Theon grinning at them, so wide she thought he might have gone mad.

“Hardly, as you can see,” Theon shouted back, and mockingly bowed to them when he'd lifted the crown he was wearing off his head.

The distance between the ships was easily bridged by a plank put on both railings, and Asha crossed the ocean swiftly, to come eye to eye with her brother. He might have looked like a woman from afar, but up close, there was no mistaken the stubble or the flat chest. A man drunk enough might be fooled, but not Asha.

Qarl, though, Qarl was appreciatively looking Theon up and down, and said to Asha, “Might this be what you would look like in a dress, my lady?”

“On a good day, mayhaps,” Theon said, smiling, “but until the day arrives that my sister finds herself yearning for a skirt, you'll have to make do with my sweet face.”

“Than your face will be your downfall, no matter how sweet it is,” Asha said, and crossed her arms. “What would be the meaning of this mummer's farce, brother?”

“Mummer's farce?” Theon barked out a laugh. “I can assure you this is no jape, Asha, nor will it ever be.”

“Jape or not, the men will talk. What will they say of you, Theon? Father will never take you seriously again.”

“He never has taken me seriously. No matter what I do, it's always wrong, or foolish, or _embarrassing_. If I must get written off, I'd rather it happen with a flourish.” He grinned. “Songs will be written about me, sister! That sound is far sweeter than anything I might have received as Balon Greyjoy's third son.”

“But you are still his son, Theon. You are still my brother. What in the Drowned God's name did you do?”

“Let me explain...” he started.

* 

Tris had shown up with the package in Theon's cabin.

“I believe this is what you were looking for?” he said, and Theon looked up from the map he had been studying. Tris threw the package on the table. “I don't know much about women's clothing, but if you need any help...”

Theon briskly stood up from his chair, untied the strings and out fell a dress, green bodice and grey skirt, with simple embroiderment along the sleeves. “It should do,” Theon said. “Did you get those other things I mentioned as well?” Tris promptly blushed and nodded, shoving another package into Theon's arms. “You're going to have to help me with the corset.”

* 

“You're wearing a corset?” Asha interrupted, incredulous.

“I wish I weren't,” Theon said regretfully. “But Tris was very helpful. Weren't you, Tris?” he called out to the young man on the bow.

“It was my pleasure,” Tris shouted back, not trying to hide the smug look on his face.

*

“Not too tight,” Theon said, “I do need to able to command my crew without gasping for breath every other sentence.” His hips were sharply digging into the table where he tried to keep himself upright, while Tris pulled the laces on his back tighter.

“You don't have to do this, you know,” he said through clenched jaws.

“I know,” Theon replied. “I know, but my father does not. If I have become soft, as a woman would be in his eyes, this should not make too much of a difference. Perhaps, after this, he will remember who I am.”

“I know who you are,” Tris said, after a pause, tying the laces into a tidy knot. “I know your name, your purpose.” He reached forward, his hands on Theon's hips. “I know you are not your sister,” he whispered.

Theon shuddered underneath his touch.

* 

“I asked why you needed a dress, not what you did why you were... wearing it,” Asha said. “They said you were seen near Seaguard. They ring their bell at the sight of any ironborn, why would you risk that?”

“That would be assuming we docked anywhere near Seaguard,” Theon said with a smirk. “I am not just wearing this dress to appear fancy, my dear sister. It was all part of a grander scheme.”

“And what, pray tell, would that scheme be?”

* 

Theon gestured to Wex to come closer. “You see those men standing over there, guarding the door?” Wex nodded. “I'm going to be distracting them. When I do, you need to climb into that window and unblock the door. There may be a guard on the inside as well, so you need to be careful.”

They'd gone over the plan a number of times already, but Theon just wanted to be certain everyone knew what they were supposed to do. His men had not exactly been supportive when he'd come out of his cabin, at first – Wex had taken one look at him and immediately turned back around, grinning widely. But as soon as he had explained what he planned on doing...

A handful of his men had gathered together with him, close to the tower – it wouldn't do to have too many of them, they'd just get in each other's way. Tris would lead the men on the other side of the square. They would make their move as soon as Theon gave the signal.

He clapped Wex on the shoulder one last time before he slipt away unseen in an alley, took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax.

The Tower they had targeted was not too far from the shore, as the greenlanders needed it to be roused when the ironborn had come to raid. Not after today, they wouldn't.

* 

“You still have not explained why you were in Seaguard,” Asha said. “Other than playing for maiden. I'm surprised your men were even willing to follow you.”

“It's probably best if I just show you,” Theon said, turning around. His skirts swished as he walked down the steps. Wex dutifully followed, holding up a candle to light the way down. Once they were in the belly of the ship, Asha blinked a few times, and than looked at Theon again.

“You dressed up, simply to steal their _bell_?”

“And no one noticed!” Theon proudly said. “We were well on our way back when the first commotion started. Seaguard is yours for the taking now, sister.”

* 

“What's this I heard about you dressing like some woman and taking over Seaguard, Theon,” Balon said, gripping the arms of the Seastone chair tightly, his eyes darting between his son and daughter.

“Not just any woman, Father,” Theon grinned wickedly, “from now on, you may call me the plundering princess.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
